


Ghost Of You

by Mid_Nightmare



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ghost Dog, Ghost!Tony Stark, Human!Peter Parker, Implied Ghost Sex, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), M/M, Multi, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Sees Ghosts, Reincarnation, Sad with a Happy Ending, Soulbonds, Soulmates, Spirits, Suicide, Two Endings, Underage Relationship(s), ghost au, ghost/human relationship, typewriters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 02:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15132839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mid_Nightmare/pseuds/Mid_Nightmare
Summary: Peter Parker knew he wasn't normal. He saw things: things that weren't there, that no one else could see. He use to talk to and feel things that no one else understood until he pushed everything away, pushed the spirits of his only friends and his dead parents away. Now that Uncle Ben has died, he and Aunt May are forced to move towns to a home they can afford, and in this innocent-appearing house lies secrets that Peter would have much rather kept buried. One of those secrets lies hidden away in a dusty library: a self-writing typewriter.





	Ghost Of You

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Ghost Of You || Traducción.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15822075) by [DesahogoWriten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesahogoWriten/pseuds/DesahogoWriten)



> Inspired by: https://marvelingmarvel.tumblr.com/post/174315869007/ghost-au-after-the-passing-of-a-loved-one-the 
> 
> I saw the beautiful moodboard above, and I just felt like I had to write something for it. The story took a few small turns that I wasn't initially planning for, but I do hope that you still enjoy. This is my first Starker story, first Marvel story in general actually, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

Life was never easy for those that were different, Peter knew that firsthand. He’s always been an outsider, always a target for bullies at school. He knew that he wasn’t _normal_ per say, but it took a few years to learn that it was better to keep his mouth shut about the abnormal things he could see.

If Peter was being honest, he’s been able to see ghosts since he was little. He remembered that he use to play with two little boys around his age when he was a child. He remembered the smaller of the boys vividly; his dirty blonde fringe falling in front of his crystal blue eyes, his crooked smile, his bony body, even how his shorts were held up with a pair of worn suspenders over a plaid button-up. The other boy was a little harder to remember, but if Peter tried hard enough, he could see him: long wavy brown hair, stormy blue-gray eyes, a missing arm. The brunette never talked as much as his counterpart, but they always came together. He distinctly remembered a time when Steven - the blonde - had told him that he and James were never apart. _We’re soulmates,_ Steven had said with a small giggle and a wide, toothy smile. Peter hadn’t understood what those words meant at the time - only that it seemed soulmates never parted, and while Peter had Steven and James to play with, if they weren’t visiting, he was oftentimes alone - but he smiled happily at his friend before looking over to James, who was silently sulking in the corner, and giving him a sweet look. _I hope I have a soulmate too,_ he had responded. Steven had nodded while James gave him a hint of a smile, and after that, they had started to play again, completely forgetting the exchange.

He even use to be visited by his parents. When he was trying to sleep, sometimes they would sit at the foot of his bed or gently pet his hair to help lull him to sleep. He remembered how his mother’s eyes matched his own, and how her long curly hair use to sometimes brush against him and cause goosebumps to erupt over his skin and giggles to spill from his lips. He remembered his father’s tender looks at both him and his mother. He remembered feeling at home. He remembered feeling _loved_.

It was never a question of whether or not his Aunt and Uncle loved him. He _knew_ that they did, that they cherished him, but it was different when his parents visited. May and Ben adored him just in a slightly different way than his mother and father did.

But he could also clearly remember when he would tell May about his friends, and how she would always look confused before smiling and telling him to have fun and be careful while looking around the room. It only got worse when he talked about his parents. One night he had a nightmare, and when May had asked him why he hadn’t come to her and Ben, he had innocently told her that _Mommy and Daddy were there, and they had helped him not be afraid._ She had looked heartbroken, and that night she and Ben had sat down, tried to explain to him that his parents were gone - dead, and that they couldn’t have been there - and when Peter had cried and tried to explain that _No, Mommy and Daddy were there!_ May had only broken down into tears. It was that instance that caused him to stop telling her about his parents.

It took longer for him to learn that children weren’t all as nice as Steven and James. He use to tell his classmates about the spirits he would see, not realizing that it wasn’t normal for a child to see his dead parents or to have playmates who were _not imaginary, you just couldn’t see them_. But as he got older, the teasing got worse, and even though he often spent his nights crying into his pillow with his mother softly petting his hair, he knew that this had to stop.

That night between tears, he told his mother and father to not visit him anymore, that they were gone and that they couldn’t actually be here, so they needed to go and leave him _alone_ . It hurt to see his mother’s eyes, _so much_ like his own, filling with tears as she tried to convince him that it was okay, that they didn’t have to leave. But Peter was adamant. He fought his tears even though his heart was breaking, and he watched as his parents walked away. They never came back. James and Steven had come the next afternoon, and he had told them that they couldn’t visit anymore either. Steven had been near tears and tried to stay, but James had nodded, pulling Steven away with one last little wave. They never returned either.

But that was the past. Peter had fought the idea of ghosts, telling himself that ghosts were not real and that whatever he was seeing was a trick of the light - he only saw small flashes of dirty blonde, so it was easy enough to pretend that it was sunshine - and that was how over the years, he stopped seeing things, stopped hearing things, stopped _feeling_ things.

He didn’t see another ghost for years, and it was lovely, but all good things have to come to an end, right? One night while he was sleeping, his dream morphed, and suddenly his Uncle Ben appeared in the darkness of his mind, telling him he loved him, was proud of him, that he was sorry to be leaving, and that he hoped Peter would help May through everything.

He had awoken with a heavy weight in his stomach, trembling, before he threw the blankets off of himself and quickly scrambled out of bed. It was clearly the middle of the night, but he could hear movement downstairs, and his stomach sunk to his toes. Once he was downstairs, he saw May at their kitchen table, head in her hands and crying her eyes out.

“Aunt May?” he called softly, walking cautiously towards her. She looked up at him, choking on a sob before opening her arms. He quickly went to her, hugging her tight, and listening to her tell him exactly what he feared. Uncle Ben was gone. He had gotten in a car accident on his way home. The other driver was drunk, and he ended up pushing Ben right off the road and straight into a tree. He was dead before help even arrived. His _ghost_ had come to him just moments ago to say goodbye because Peter had been unable to talk to him on the phone earlier, and Uncle Ben knew that Peter use to see.

He had openly cried into her shoulder, and if he had felt a warm, familiar hand on his back as May clung to him in her own pain, he didn’t say anything. He also didn't say a word as that familiar presence eventually left them.

 

The next few weeks were exceptionally difficult. They had Ben’s wake and then the funeral, and that coupled with the sudden loss of income, left May struggling to try and pay for the house. He wasn’t too surprised when she told him they were going to have to move, and even though it was sad to leave his childhood home, it was what was best for them.

May ended up finding a fixer-upper that was only a few towns over, and she said it had been affordable and actually pretty cute. He had agreed, even though he’d yet to see his new home, because this is the first time May had smiled since Uncle Ben died.

He helped her pack up their entire lives, putting as much as they could into Ben’s beat-up pick-up truck and May’s station wagon. One of Ben’s friends drove the truck while Peter and May stayed in the cramped car, and even though both were packed, they were going to have to make another trip.

It took about twenty minutes to drive to the place, and when Peter saw it, he could understand why May liked it. It looked a bit like an old castle, and Peter found himself smiling at the sight of it. “Do you like it?” May asked nervously after she’d parked the car.

Peter looked at her and smiled wider, leaning in and kissing her cheek fondly. “I think it’s perfect.” He could see a weight lift off her shoulders, and with that, he felt a burst of new energy. Ben’s friends helped to move everything into the house, setting it into the designated rooms, before going with May to get another load of stuff while Peter hung around to unpack. He had wanted to go, but May had asked him to stay and start to tidy up a bit, even if only the kitchen just so she could make Ben’s friends a meal as a thank you for the help. He couldn’t possibly say no, so of course he stuck around.

He started cleaning, and as he spent a bit more time in the house, he was beginning to realize why a house with such a gorgeous exterior could be cheap enough for them to afford with only half their income. The floors creaked with every step, and there was definitely a lot of dust to be cleaned up. He was amazed that there was still so much stuff in the house. It was almost like the previous owner just up and left, leaving everything behind.

He jumped when he heard a noise behind him before shaking his head. “It’s just the breeze, Peter, get a grip,” he told himself before returning to scrubbing down the stove. There was another noise, and he tried to ignore it, but it sounded like feet. Animal feet running on the creaky floors.

“Get a fucking grip,” he growled to himself, putting a bit more force behind his scrubbing. By the time May had returned with the guys and another load, Peter had managed to finish the kitchen, at least enough that May could use it.

This load was mostly for upstairs, so he ended up taking the boxes with his stuff by himself up to the room that May said was his. He was surprised to see that it already had a bed and several other pieces of furniture. “Actually, not surprising,” he muttered to himself before setting the boxes down, “not with everything else here.”

A small bark behind him caused Peter to whip around, looking for the source of the noise. He didn’t see anything, but that didn’t stop him from searching the entire room for a dog. He and May didn’t even have a fish, let alone a dog, so he had no idea what could have possibly made that noise. When he didn’t find anything, he shook his head, heading downstairs quickly to get more boxes.

Once the boxes were all handled, May tried to offer Ben’s friends to dinner as a thank you for the help, but they had merely smiled and waved it off, saying that they wouldn’t want to intrude on the family settling and that they didn’t need to be repaid for happily helping their friends.

She had smiled tenderly and nodded, a bit too exhausted to try and keep fighting them. Peter waved them off, and they each took a turn ruffling his hair before heading home. The teenager shuffled around to find May again, seeing her sitting at the kitchen table, before he took a seat with her. “The house is nice,” he said with a tender smile.

She looked up at him and smiled back, nodding a bit. “I’m surprised that I could afford it, what with it being fully furnished and everything, but I’m glad. I think this will be a good start for us.”

Peter nodded and agreed. “Well do you want to unpack upstairs or downstairs first?”

She chuckled and shook her head, reaching for his hand and giving it a small squeeze. “How about I order Thai and we do a bit of cleaning then unpacking?”

“Deal,” he chirped with a smile before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

 

It took several hours and two reheats of Thai food, but the house was mostly clean. The dust was gone. The floor was vacuumed or swept and mopped. The furniture was all thoroughly disinfected and left to air dry. They had even managed to somehow get the TV set up and all of the new linens - May was not about to let them sleep in beds with who knows how old linens - were washed before put on their respected beds.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for tonight,” May said with a smile as she sat down at the kitchen table again. He chuckled a bit breathlessly before resting his head on his arms, smiling over at her.

“Yeah… I think so. I still gotta unpack my room.”

“You don’t have to, Peter. You should sleep,” she tried to persuade, but Peter only shrugged.

“I still got some energy left, so I might as well do a little bit.”

She merely shook her head before gently patting his hand, pressing a kiss to his temple before walking to her own room. “Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

He nodded, staying put for a minute more before getting up. With a stretch, Peter began to walk upstairs. May had told him that his room was once the master bedroom, and that she had wanted him to have it as she was more comfortable with the bedroom on the bottom floor.

He climbed the stairs and went towards the last room on the left side. He pushed the door open, and once he walked in, he could feel goosebumps travel up his arms. He looked around quickly, not seeing anything, and he shook his head again. “Ghosts aren’t real, Peter, you know this,” he told himself softly before closing the door behind him.

He spent his night tidying up his room, moving the furniture around to make the room feel a little more modern. He smiled to himself once the dust was gone, and in its place, his posters are up on his walls, and his pictures are arranged on top of one of the dressers as well as his towelitries.

After brushing his teeth and changing into pajamas, Peter crawled into bed, sighing softly at the surprising comfort that blanketed him. He hadn’t realized how tired he was, but once his head hit the pillow, he was out, and if he had dreams about some kind of terrier barking and climbing into bed with him, he doesn’t remember it.

 

May had a few days off, and they spent those days getting the house entirely ready. By the end of day three, the fridge and pantry was back to being stocked with food. The living room was entirely put back together with all of their game consoles and movies set up in the built-in cabinets surrounding the TV. They have each gotten everything set up in their own bedrooms and the guest room. They’ve even started tackling some of the other rooms that didn’t have specific meanings for them right now.

But May had to return to work, and Peter smiled and sent her off before going upstairs to continue to look through the last few odd rooms on the right side of the hall. He had told May that he’d keep himself busy, and that he’d try and clean the last few rooms for her. The first two were just more bedrooms, so Peter did a quick dusting and threw the linens into the wash (they hadn’t bought nearly enough linens for the number of beds that ended up being in this house) before moving on. One room was actually just filled with boxes, and Peter sighed heavily as he looked at them before shaking his head and closing the door. He was not about to go through all of that today. And that left one last door.

When Peter pushed open the room, he gasped and dropped the cleaning supplies in his hands. It was a library, a fully stocked and absolutely breathtaking library. He looked around at the walls of books, stepping in deeper to see that every surface was covered in old leather bound books. A whimper left him as he walked up to one of the many shelves, reaching up to lightly brush his finger along the dust covered spine.

A small embarrassingly high noise - it was _not_ a squeal, Peter was a sixteen year old boy, he _did not squeal_ \- may have left his throat before a laugh bubbled up. “This house just got a million times better,” he grinned, getting the cleaning supplies off the floor and beginning to tenderly dust each shelf of books.

It took hours, probably because Peter couldn’t stop himself from reading the title of each book, but as he followed the walls of books, he stumbled upon another amazing gift. After the straight walls, there was a curve that lead to a large circular room originally hidden from view. In the center of the room was a large oak desk. The desk was covered in some odd papers, and various other little things like a ink bottle and a few quills. Apparently, it was a lot older than he thought, but there was also an ancient typewriter that took up a large portion of the desk.

He rounded the desk, curious to study the now antique piece of writing equipment, but he stopped dead when he saw what was written.

A moment past as Peter continued to stare at the paper. “I think I’m crazy…” he whispered to himself, and when the keys began to move on their own, he knew it. With a shriek, Peter bolted from the room, running down the hall before hiding in his own room.

“What the fuck was that?!” he cried as he dove into bed and hid under his covers. He stayed hidden in the bed, curled up in a ball as he tried desperately to convince himself that, no he was not crazy, but maybe he was sleep-deprived. “Typewriters don’t move on their own though…” he whispered to himself, nervously chewing on the corner of his nail.

His heart was still racing, but he closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing, desperate to relax. He didn’t even notice that he had fallen asleep until he opened his eyes and saw that the bright light that was once streaming in through his windows was now a soft, amber glow.

Sitting up, he tried to shake off the unsettled feeling that still was gripping his heart. He heard the soft patter of paws and claws on his floor, and he groaned softly. “Ghosts aren’t real. Ghosts aren’t real,” he repeated to himself over and over. But when he opened his eyes, he saw a small all black terrier looking up at him, tail wagging happily.

He screamed again, jumping back onto his bed and staring wide-eyed at the dog. “What the fuck!!” he cried.

The dog let out a small whimper, rubbing his muzzle with his paw and looking sadly up at Peter before getting up and turning away, suddenly disappearing. Peter stared wide-eyed at the spot where the dog once was. “Oh, my god, my house is haunted…” he muttered to himself.

May got home shortly after, and he pretended as if nothing had happened, told her he found a few more bedrooms and a storage room as well, but that the room at the end of the hall was locked. He didn’t want his aunt to go into the haunted library with the self-writing typewriter. He figured she had enough on her plate.

She seemed interested in the locked room, but when Peter explained - lied - that he hadn’t found a key or anything to get inside, she merely shrugged and let it go. He offered to do the dishes, and she was thankful for that as she wished him good night and went to bed early. First day back at work must have been exhausting.

He spent time downstairs since he hadn’t had nearly as many run-ins with anything… odd, but eventually curiosity won out. He went upstairs and walked towards the room at the end of the hall. With his hand on the doorknob, he chewed on his bottom lip before turning the knob only to not be let in.

He blinked, pushing lightly against the door again, but it didn’t budge. He stared at the wood because he was sure that he’d been in the room earlier and that everything that happened to him today was not just a dream, but he also distinctly remembered being able to actually _enter_ the room before.

Peter backed away before heading to his room, not even realizing his body was trembling until he struggled to turn his own door knob and get into his room. When he got in, he immediately went to the bathroom, climbing into the tub for a soak and trying to forget everything.

He spent a lot longer in the bathtub than he meant to, but when he finished getting ready for bed and walked back into his room, he didn’t notice anything different. “Well that’s good at least. Maybe it was just a dream.” He shook his head before crawling into bed, not even bothering to pull anything on besides just a pair of briefs and a large tee-shirt.

He slept restlessly that night, but at least there was nothing in his dreams that was suspicious. Well, nothing besides a key.

 

In the morning, Peter awoke and hummed softly, smiling to himself. His smile was immediately gone though as he saw on his bedside table an old skeleton key with a small note underneath it.  

His heart hammered against his chest as he immediately recognized the print as the same from the typewriter, and he glanced at his clock. It was late enough that May had already left for work, so he guessed it wouldn’t hurt…

He got out of bed and walked down the hall, the floorboards creaking under the soft press of his bare feet. With a deep breath, he gently put the key into the lock, turning it before trying the door again. He whimpered softly as the door opened this time, and he held the handle tightly to gain his composure before walking in deeper towards the hidden desk.

He rounded the table, and his eyes were immediately drawn to the new paper sitting on the desk. It was the paper that had been in the typewriter yesterday, but now the paper was torn and sitting on the desk. He took a seat in the leather chair before reaching out, hitting the keys gently and typing a message. 

He felt absolutely insane for doing this, typing a message and then entering a new line to see if he’d get a reply, but as the keys started to move and a message began to reveal itself, he realized that maybe he wasn’t as crazy as he thought.

Peter only stared at the message, waiting for his brain to catch up to this, waiting to realize that maybe he really was crazy.

A small squeak left his throat as he watched the keys continue to move in a practiced and familiar ease.

“If by special you mean mentally ill, then I agree,” he whispered softly to the keys. He shook his head before reaching out, moving to another line.

Before he could even pull his fingers back, a cold draft seemed to cover them, goosebumps raising on his flesh once more as he watched the paper.

“Definitely crazy,” Peter said before making a move to get out of the chair. The cold draft only got worse, and he gasped as the keys seem to be moving more quickly and more rigorously.

“You call seeing ghosts special?! You call actually having a legitimate conversation with a fucking _typewriter_ special? You call hearing claws on a floor and waking up to random keys to originally unlocked doors special?” he cried. Panic was beginning to fill him. He hadn’t encounter a ghost in years until he came to this house, and he was not about to start hanging out with one now. He was hoping for a fresh start and not a continuation of his previous torment with bullies.

Suddenly the image of the adorable but sad little terrier returned to mind, and Peter frowned, looking down at his lap. “I didn’t mean to scare him…” he mumbled softly. He heard the keys moving, but he waited until they stopped to look up.

Peter laughed at that, shaking his head before glancing to the side to see the small terrier was back once more. The keys were going again, but Peter ignored them in favor of leaning down to study the dog a bit closer. Now that he’s looking hard enough, he can tell that he can actually see through the dog. He can see the shadowing and the fur, but he can also tell that the pup isn’t quite touching the ground.

He smiled wider and leant back up, looking at the typewriter before blushing.

“Oh, my god, a ghost is flirting with me,” he mumbled before shaking his head. That could be added to ‘Things That Shouldn’t Be Real But Apparently Are’.

He was going to make a comment, but then he reread the note. “A century? You’ve been dead for a century?!” His disbelief caused his voice to raise, and he stared with wide-eyes.

His blush was back, and he hung his head, hiding behind his curly bangs. He shook his head before looking away, thinking for a moment before going to a new line and typing a message. 

 He groaned softly, shaking his head. He really needed to calm down. Maybe cut back on caffeine and sugar too.

  Peter smiled to himself, biting his bottom lip before shaking his head. _God, Parker, get a grip,_ he told himself.

He shook his head before standing, walking away from the desk and locking the door on his way out without even a glance back at the old typewriter. He needed to stay away from this room, no matter how nice this Tony seemed.

 

May continued to work most days, trying to make sure that they had enough income to support themselves, and since they didn’t move until the beginning of summer, Peter still hasn’t returned to school. He’s actually taken to long walks in the woods surrounding their home and to tackling the insane mess of the storage room.

Most of the stuff in the boxes is just junk, old papers and nothing important to keep, so he pulled the boxes out and dumped them into their recycling bin. He did find old clothing and even a chest that’s probably half his own weight. It’s odd, but he feels bad throwing the clothes and the chest away. He refuses to go into the library though, so he ended up storing them in one of the guest bedrooms before continuing to go through box after box.

It took days, but eventually Peter got through it all, and now that the room is empty, Peter feels a small sense of accomplishment. The accomplishment wore off however as a few more days past, days where he now had nothing to do.

Chewing on his lip, Peter decided to go into the library, just to get a book. If he stayed awake from the desk, maybe he’d be able to enjoy the room that he hasn’t stopped dreaming about. So he went to his room, grabbed the key he hid under his pillow, before returning to the door at the other end of the hall.

He turned the key in the lock before walking in. He smiled at the sight of the books and the smell of old paper and leather, humming happily as he walked deeper into the room. He was looking through the books when he felt another cold draft against his thigh. He looked around wildly, but he didn’t see anything.

Shaking his head, Peter picked a novel that sounded interesting and peaked his head into the hidden room with the desk. The window seat behind the desk called to him, and he chewed on his lip before sighing softly. Boredom does wonderful things in the summer.

He walked past the desk and curled up on the window seat, cracking open the book and beginning to read. It’s quiet for a long time, but once he’s completely absorbed by the novel’s tale of knights and their pursuit to defend their king with their lives, he heard a familiar noise.

He glanced over, watching the keys move on the typewriter slowly, and he chewed on his lip again before setting the book down on the bench. He walked towards the desk, gently holding onto the back of the chair as he read the message.

  Peter hummed softly, glancing at his book before sitting down in the chair.

He started a new line before beginning to type, deciding that maybe for today he’ll give into his curiosity. 

 Peter threw his head back in a laugh, covering his mouth to stifle the loud sound, but the smile is still there as he typed back.

The sarcasm that seemed to be dripping from the words caused Peter to laugh again, humming softly. 

It was only a moment of hesitation of Peter’s part. 

  Another wider smile pulled at Peter’s lips. It was nice to have someone to talk to after all his time alone. Especially someone that… understood the weird things he’s been seeing his entire life. 

Peter shrugged before remembering that he should probably be writing back.

Peter read the comment with some snark, but he chuckled and smiled wider because of it.

 And just like that, he heard a small yip behind him. He smiled and turned to see the pup standing off to the side with his tail wagging excitedly. His smile only grew as he bent down in the chair, and the pup came running up to him.

It’s odd really. The feeling of fur against his fingers but not actually being able to touch it. He pet along the terrier’s back, watching the pup grow more and more excited. It was still the oddest feeling. Peter faintly remembered his childhood and talking to his friend, but they never actually touched, so he doesn’t remember what it’s like to physically interact with a ghost besides the odd touches to his hair from his mother.

When he sat up, the pup stayed at his feet, and he could feel the weight of him there when he lied himself over Peter's feet which brought a smile to his lips. He looked up at the page to see that Tony had written him something.

  He imagines that the man, Tony, rolled his eyes at this and probably gave a small shrug as well.

Peter chuckled and smiled at the mental image, looking down at his feet where he can still feel the weight, but he can no longer see the ghost. There isn’t a response for several minutes, and when Peter went to apologize, the keys began to move again.

Peter honestly didn’t know what to say, but he went with the only thing he could think of. 

Peter frowned, trying to think of what to say, but it seemed Tony had the same thought. 

 It was silent for a moment, Peter frowning as he thought about Uncle Ben again and Tony doing whatever it was that a ghost does.

Peter smiled at the comment, flushing lightly before rubbing the back of his neck. 

 Peter’s cheeks are even darker now that Tony has pointed it out, but he chuckled at the new message he read.

 

 Peter returned, laughing softly before feeling the weight leave his feet. He glanced down and saw the slight blurry outline of the pup before it disappeared entirely.

Peter pouted before nodding slightly. 

His smile was back, but he bit his inner cheek to stop it from getting too big, nervously typing a return message. 

With that, Peter stood and returned to the window seat, picking his book up and returning to his reading. Maybe he wouldn’t have to be quite so bored over the next few weeks…

 

Every morning, Peter would go downstairs and spend breakfast with May, kiss her happily on her cheek before she left for work, then he’d clean up their dishes and set them to dry before heading upstairs to the library. It was like clockwork now. It’s been weeks since they moved in, and Peter has been following this exact schedule for nearing three weeks. He even had gotten to the point where he started wearing the skeleton key around his neck, keeping it close to him at all times.

He quickly slipped into the library, grinning as he saw the small black pup instantly running up to him and barking happily. “Hi, Archie,” he cooed as he leant down to feel the ghost brush against his fingers. The pup growled playfully before running back towards the desk, and Peter laughed as he followed after him.

Blushing, he took his seat back in the leather-bound chair, giggling softly as he saw a message already typed out for him. 

He instantly began to type back, smiling wider when that familiar cold draft brushed against his skin. 

Peter’s cheeks burned. Tony really was a flirt, that much was obvious, as a lot of his comments had second meanings that tended to be anything except innocent. This seemed like another one of those comments.

That idea alone reminded him of the odd dreams he’s been having of late, but he quickly pushed them away in favor of spending some time with Tony. 

It was quiet for a moment as Peter struggled to find something to say. His cheeks were still oddly burning, and he was so absorbed in his own world trying to think of something not dumb to say that when there was the faint cold touch on his cheek, he gasped and touched the spot. It felt like fingers, not like a paw or fur, but like actual rough fingers. It also felt achingly familiar.

Suddenly the keys were moving, and it took him a moment to shake his thoughts free before he could read the note. After rereading the words several times, Peter slowly stretched forward and began to type.

He hoped his words didn’t come across wrong, but at the same time, he couldn’t shake the odd feeling covering him. He’d never felt Tony touch him before, hadn’t even seen the faint outline of the ghost even though he had practically memorized Archie by now, so he was just so shocked by such a human touch. The scariest thing though was the fact that it didn’t feel wrong, didn’t feel different. It felt _familiar_ , and he ached to know why that touch set his skin on fire.

Being reminded of the way he had treated the man when he first arrived sent a dark and shameful blush up Peter’s neck.

 Maybe his answer was too quick. He had felt the coldness on his fingers as he reached out and typed the response, but the small chuckle that he heard sent a shiver up his spine - just not out of the cold. His cheeks burned darker, and he quickly hid his face in his hands. Why was he blushing so much? Why did he care so much about what a ghost thought of him? A ghost that wasn’t even one of his family members.

There was the soft sound of keys, and even when they stopped, Peter didn’t look up for a moment. When his face was not burning nearly as much as it had been a moment ago, he took a deep breath before looking at the message, and his heart leapt into his throat.

It was an innocent enough question, and Peter sat there staring at the words while trying to decide. He’d spent years pushing ghosts away, telling himself it was always a trick of the light or his tired brain playing tricks on him, but now that he’d gotten to know Tony, was he willing to push aside years of torment to actually see the other man?

Peter hated how quickly his brain had come to the answer. He reached out hesitantly, starting a new line and typing the few letters he needed. 

He felt shy again, thinking his respond sounded oddly desperate in his thoughts. Why was he like this today? Why was he so hung up on such a small thing? He shook his head and opened his eyes - when did he even close them? - only to suck in a sharp breath as a pair of legs was the first thing he saw.

Staring for a moment before carefully looking up, Peter tried to ignore how hard his heart was hammering, how dangerously loud his pulse sounded in his ears. A middle-aged man was smirking down at him, one eyebrow raised slightly as he looked down at the boy from his perch on the desk. His eyes were clearly dark, not that Peter could see colors in ghosts, but the fact that it was hard to see the man’s pupils helped him figure out that he most likely had chocolate brown eyes.

He was in a slightly too large pale shirt that was designed exactly the same as the ones hanging in the spare closet, and the small details revealed that the man truly was from a different time period. If it didn’t look so fitting on him, Peter might have laughed at the fact that it was just like those shirts that pirates wore in movies.

His cheeks flushed as he watched the man stretch one hand out for the keys, typing a small message. 

Peter actually laughed softly at that, especially because he could see Tony’s smirk grow wider. The pink dusting on his cheeks wouldn’t leave now, no matter how much he willed it to, but for some reason, he also didn’t mind it as much right now. He reached out, typing a message back before looking up at Tony and watching the man read. 

Tony threw his head back in a laugh that caused his eyes to crinkle at the corners, and even though Peter couldn’t hear the sound, he could guess that it was absolutely beautiful. He blinked, trying to figure out where that thought came from, but he forgot once he saw the man start typing again.

Peter blushed because after reading it, Tony winked at him. He giggled softly before noticing Archie in the corner come running over to Tony. The man picked up his pup, setting him in his lap and ruffling his fur. His smile was so genuine and loving that it caused Peter to suck in a breath, catching notice from the other, and he quickly looked away. He only looked back when he heard the keys once again. He was unable to read until Tony leant back, petting Archie’s head as he balanced himself on his other hand which was propped behind him on the desk. 

Peter giggled again and smiled wider, reaching out to lightly brush his fingers over Archie’s muzzle before turning to the keys. He was also thankful for Tony not pointing out his painful awkwardness today. 

Tony smiled at him, and Peter’s ears turned pink before he got up and went around to look at the books to find something interesting enough for him to read today. Tony appeared beside him a few moments later as he was looking between two options.

“Which one do you recommend?” Peter asked, holding the two books up for the ghost to see the titles. Tony regarded them for a moment before shaking his head, slipping past Peter and walking over to the ladder that was set in the corner along its track. Peter followed with a small frown, but when he watched the ghost move up the later and look for something, he curiously stared at him.

It took only a moment before a book was falling to the ground and scaring the living daylights out of him. “Tony!” he cried, having nearly jumped out of his skin. “Don’t do that!”

The ghost smirked at him and shrugged before pointing to the book on the floor. Peter grumbled as he picked it up before flipping over the cover to read the background of the story. He hummed happily - it sounded good, actually really _really_ good - and decided that he’d give Tony’s suggestion a try.

After setting the other books on the desk and getting comfortable in the window seat, Peter smiled as his lap was suddenly full of a pup and a man was at his feet. “Joining me?” he asked, raising a brow over the top of the book at the man.

Tony smirked and shrugged before leaning back against the wall as he watched Peter. The human blushed lightly again before hiding his smile behind the book that he quickly began to read.

 

Peter smiled widely and nodded quickly before standing up from the comfortable leather chair.

It has been a few weeks of Tony wandering around visibly and spending more direct time with him. He often helped Peter decide which books to read, or he'd tell him about the old experiments he use to perform, but one thing was always the same: they tended to spend their time curled up on the window seat together as long as Tony didn't need the keys to type.

This - going outside - however was something new for them. They'd never really left the library except the few times Tony would follow him to the kitchen while he made himself something to eat. They really did tend to live in their own world upstairs.

He realized afterwards that he was probably way too excited, and a blush quickly started to travel up his neck at the idea that maybe his eagerness would put Tony off. One glance at Tony though caused him to stop fidgeting so much. The man was smiling in a way that caused his eyes to crinkle at the corners, and Archie was happily climbing off of his owner's lap to receive a pet from his favorite living person.

Peter bit his inner cheek to hide a smile as his fingers lightly brushed the pup to the best of his abilities. He glanced up to see Tony standing from his usual perch on the desk, and once he had joined him, the man tilted his head towards the door.

Archie ran in front of them, but Peter didn’t mind, following Tony out of the library and down the stairs. He knew the man obviously didn’t need to wait for him to open the door, but it was still slightly shocking when he just walked through the backdoor.

No matter, he was quick to join the other, humming to himself. It was a cloudy day, but Peter didn’t mind. He was actually quite fond of rainy days, and the dark clouds hiding behind the trees looked like they were promising him a storm. He stretched his hands above his head, humming softly before squeaking as he felt a cold poke to his side.

Tony was there, smirking at him as always, before gesturing for the living boy to follow him. The youth didn’t think twice as he followed the ghost, watching Archie run around excitedly ahead of them. They walked for several minutes, and Peter hummed as he realized that he was entering a part of the forest he wasn’t actually familiar with.

He was curious as to what could be hidden in this area of the forest, but he kept quiet as he walked beside the ghost. It’s not like Tony could talk too much anyways, but the silence between them didn’t feel tense or awkward or like there was something missing. It felt comfortable and familiar, but Tony tended to make Peter always feel that way. It almost made him feel like they'd always known each other, maybe even longer than Peter had been alive.

Peter shook his head before sighing. It was one thing to talk to ghosts and see them, but he wasn’t so sure on the whole reincarnation thing. It was something he quickly pushed aside as Tony gave him an odd look complete with furrowed brows. He giggled softly before waving it off. “Just thinking too much,” he told the ghost who merely nodded back slightly.

They continued to walk for several minutes, and Peter was beginning to get very confused as to what exactly they were looking for, but Tony stopped him, smiling enough that his eyes crinkled again. He tried to say something, but Peter didn’t hear a word. He frowned, looking up at the ghost who was also frowning. He tried again though, moving his mouth slower, and Peter stared at his lips transfixed.

He honestly at first was trying to read the man’s lips, but that became a bit of a distant thought as he caught sight of Tony licking his bottom lip. Must have been an old habit because he doubted the man actually needed to do it.

A hand waving in front of his face caught his attention, and he tore his eyes away to look wide-eyed up at Tony, who was once again smirking widely. “I’m sorry! I was trying to read your lips and figure out what you were saying,” he said. He was trying to be convincing, but he wasn’t sure who he was convincing, himself or Tony.

With a slight eye roll, Tony tried once again, and Peter actually managed to catch the words. “Oh! You did experiments here?” Even though Tony had said he was a bit of an alchemist when he was alive, Peter didn't fully understand what the man had done. He had performed countless experiences in all different types of science branches, but he never seemed to publish anything. But the idea of being able to understand even a fraction better left the boy grinning toothily.

With a shake of his head, Tony pointed his thumb behind them. “Oh, I’m sorry. You did experiments in the place you’re going to show me?” That got him a nod, and Peter giggled at the idea. The ghost returned the grin before leading the boy again, and it only took a few steps before Peter felt like he had walked into an entirely new world. They were in what looked like a minor clearing, and he only said that because there was an open gap in the trees above them that allowed for him to see the clouds above. A small stream cut through the middle of the open area, and Peter smiled as he saw the small waterfall several yards upstream.

It was peaceful. A smile crossed Peter’s features as he took in the area some more, seeing Archie running around by the stream and even hopping into the water before barking happily and running away again. He realized that Tony was watching him, and he smiled at the man. “It’s beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here.”

The ghost merely nodded, visibly more relaxed than Peter had seen him even before. He walked towards the stream before settling on a large rock, and the youth followed him, sitting cross-legged there. They were back to silence, but Peter hummed softly, dipping his fingers into the water curiously before pulling away at the coldness.

He caught a glimpse of Tony smiling, and he blushed again, hiding his face by looking in the entirely opposite direction. A faint touch to his knee however caused him to turn back and regard the ghost. _Cold?_   Peter managed to read from the other’s lips as he pointed to the river.

With a slight laugh, Peter nodded; “Very.” He was smiling wider than he had in a long time, and Tony appeared to be pleased. _I’ve never brought anyone here before._ The man said, and Peter blinked as he tried to think of the words. A warmth bloomed in his chest at being the only person that’s seen Tony’s little private area - at being _special_ enough to see it - but he quickly pushed the thought down. Tony only probably brought him here because Peter didn't understand his work. He probably would have brought one of the women he had seen while he was living if he wasn’t too busy.

He tried to swallow the sudden sick feeling that churned his stomach. Putting on another smile, the youth looked back at the man. “Well then I’m even more thankful you shared this with me. It’s… perfect actually. It’s so quiet and peacefully, but it still feels alive…” he trailed off, as he thought of another word to describe the area. Magical? Maybe. Special? Absolutely.

He sighed before leaning back, lying down across the rock and trying to shut his brain up for a moment. Keeping his eyes closed, Peter tried to focus on the stillness of the meadow coupled with the sound of running water instead of the dangerous territory his brain was beginning to travel into.

Warm fingertips were running along his cheekbone, following the curve right into his jawline. They tickled as they gently slid along the underside of his chin almost as if he was a pet getting a small scratch, but that thought only had a smile pulling on his lips.

Those same fingers continued to trace along his skin: his eyebrows, eyelids, bridge of his nose, but they hesitated at his lips. His bottom lip jutted out slightly in a pout, and then he felt a warm and slightly rough thumb gently brush along it. Suddenly warm breath was against his ear, and he was startled by the deep voice whispering to him. “Open your eyes, pretty boy. A storm’s coming.”

He whimpered softly, not wanting to leave this, whatever it was. It felt like a dream, especially the dreams he’s been having as of late, but he really didn’t want to leave. A deep chuckle that sent shivers up his spine came next, and the fingers were back on his cheeks. “Don’t make me beg now.”

A giggle left him, but he still didn’t attempt to open his eyes. If he did, would he wake up? Would this mystery man leave again? Would he be all alone? He frowned at the idea before his eyes flew open as a loud crack of thunder startled him awake.

He sat himself up, looking around widely before remembering where he was. Apparently he’d fallen asleep on the rock he had been lounging on, but Peter was alone. Tony was nowhere to be seen, and Archie wasn’t around either.

He frowned, a sudden shiver causing him to shake slightly. He looked up at the sky, seeing that the clouds had darkened considerably. “Shit!” he swore softly before quickly getting up and brushing himself off. “Tony?” he called, heading in the direction he believed the house was in.

Chewing on his lip nervously, Peter tried to retrace his steps, still keeping an eye out for one of the two ghosts he has grown so familiar with. Suddenly, raindrops began to fall from the sky, and he groaned softly, jogging now in hopes of getting home quicker.

“Go right,” a voice whispered, and Peter whipped around, trying to find it. He stared wide-eyed before hearing the same voice. “Go right.”

He nodded slightly before turning right, continuing to try and hide under the canopy of trees to prevent himself from getting wet. “Left,” and this time, he followed the voice without a second thought.

A few more random directions, and the house emerged through the trees. He ran full speed to get into the dry enclosure as the rain picked up, and once he was inside, he went directly upstairs to his room to change into some clean clothes. He was shivering though as the cold seemed to be seeping into his bones now that his clothes were off. He decided a nice soak in the tub would probably warm him right up, and so he turned on the hot water and filled the bathtub.

He sighed as he stepped inside and the warmth immediately washed over him. It was a welcome relief, and he found himself happily stretching out until the tub was filled enough for him to turn the tap off. Peter frowned, resting his head back against the edge of the tub as he tried to relax, but for some reason, his dream was coming back to him. A whimper left him as he thought about the tender touches, and he felt heat suddenly pool low in his gut.

“Fuck,” he whined softly, trying to calm his nerves as his cock twitched with interest. As a flush began to creep up his neck, he gave into the feelings he’s been pushing aside for weeks. His hand trailed lower, grazing along his stomach through the light patch of curls before he moaned softly as his hand wrapped around himself.

He’s already half-hard, which would be a bit embarrassing if Peter wasn’t suddenly so _desperate_ . Ever since they’ve moved in, he’s avoided doing anything like this for fear of suddenly having a visitor. A gasp caused his back to arch slightly as his cheeks burn from a sudden thought: _maybe it wouldn’t be bad to get caught…_

He’d curse his brain later for the idea as his length was suddenly fully hardened, and without a second of hesitation, his fingers were tightening around himself and stroking from root to tip. A soft moan slipped from his lips as his head leant fully back, eyes slipping shut.

Even though he knew he was alone, Peter prevented himself from being too loud or too noisy as his hand sped up, thumb swiping over the tip with each upstroke, but he couldn’t stop all of his moans from slipping past his lips.

Free hand in his curls, Peter lightly tugged on the strands as he bit his lip to stifle a high- pitched whimper. Suddenly his mind was clouded with his mystery dream man: the light touches of rough fingers, the deep velvety voice, and the warmth of another's touch.

His hand sped up, squeezing his length tighter and causing his back to arch sharply, and if he wasn't careful, he was actually going to pull his hair out from his tight grip.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, squirming slightly as his nails lightly scraped along his clock.

_“Say my name, sweetheart.”_ It was whispered in his ear during one of his dreams when his mystery man had touched other parts of his body besides his face, and he whimpered when his skin pricked along the trail the man had made.

Unfortunately, he didn't know the man's name, had no idea what his brain was doing besides just giving him a nightly boyfriend to fill his otherwise empty love life.

_“You know it, baby. Just say it.”_ He didn't remember that line in his dream, but honestly, he was teetering on the edge of his climax, so he didn't _care_ what his brain remembered as long as it was going to help him finish.

“Please...” He should be embarrassed by how utterly _wrecked_ his voice sounded, but he couldn't give a damn as his thighs began to tremble slightly and his breathing hitched. With another hard squeeze and two more strokes, Peter’s head is thrown back against the tub, moaning shamefully loud as he reached his peak. “A-ah, f-uck, _Tony_.”

Sinking deeper into the water as his muscles turn to jelly, Peter hummed softly and happily, eyes closed as he enjoyed his afterglow. It took a few moments for his brain to clear, but once it had only one thought struck him. Shooting himself up into a sitting position, he stared wide-eyed at his thighs hidden in the water.

“No…” he whispered to himself as his skin began to flare up in a blush. He had said _Tony_ when he had reached his high. He had thought of _Tony_ touching him. He had been dreaming of _Tony._ The reason why the touch to his cheek had felt so familiar was because it _was_ familiar. It was a feeling Peter had felt every single night for several weeks in his dreams. But what did this mean?

Suddenly he couldn’t stand being in the water a second longer. He pulled the plug and stood up, shivering again and grabbing a towel to dry himself off before pulling on some pajamas. His thoughts were racing, and he barely could walk straight as he headed towards the library.

His hand wrapped around the doorknob, and his forehead leant against the wood. He realized just then that tears were falling from his eyes and splattering onto his shirt. A small sob bubbled up from his chest, and a painful tightness had wrapped around his heart.

Distracted by his tears, Peter didn’t realize that he was no longer alone until he felt the coldness touch his cheek again. He jumped away from the door, staring wide-eyed at Tony, and when he saw the sad look in the ghost’s eyes, a new batch of tears were flowing down his cheeks.

“No… No…” he whimpered softly, wiping at his cheeks. Tony was frowning, reaching out and gently resting his hands on the boy’s elbows. When Peter risked a glance at him, confusion was covering his features, and a furrow was set between his brows and causing his entire face to look older. And suddenly Peter remembered just how old the other was, before he had died and now after.

“No, I can’t do this,” he said quickly before shaking his head, turning to the door and locking it before rushing back to his room. He happened to glance to his left as he was opening his door and stepping inside, but he chose to ignore how much his heart ached to see the crestfallen look on Tony’s face.

 

Peter avoided the library like the plague for a week after he had come to the realization that he cared a lot more about Tony than he had originally thought. When Aunt May wasn’t home, he kept himself hidden in his room, usually trying to fight what his brain was trying so desperately to tell him.

He had a crush on a ghost. No, he had a crush on _Tony._ And _no, dammit, he was in love with him._

Peter had never felt special to anyone, and no one had felt special to him like he was realizing Tony was. He was happiest hidden in the library with a book and a ghost pup and typing on an ancient typewriter that responded back to him due to a ghost. He couldn’t stop smiling and blushing when he was with Tony and Archie. He was honored that Tony had trusted him enough to bring him to his secret and special spot in the forest. His heart did a flip every time he thought about the times that Tony had actually touched his skin. He was fucked. And now? He was lonely and heartbroken.

Archie hadn’t come into his room at night. He hadn’t seen or heard either of the two ghosts since he had locked the library door and hid himself in his room. He was beginning to grow scared that Tony had heard him, had _seen_ him that night, and was avoiding Peter just as much as Peter was avoiding him, but that didn’t stop his chest from painfully tightening each time he thought of the other man.

With a small sniffle, he pushed the blankets down a bit, sitting up slowly. He stopped when he saw a hunched over shape standing at the foot of his bed. Tony was there, but he wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at his toes. His shoulders were curled in, and his clothes look oddly tattered.

“T… Tony?” he whispered. His voice came out in a little squeak, and his cheeks burned at how oddly hopefully and desperate he sounded.

The ghost slowly raised his head, and Peter sucked in a breath. Tony’s eyes looked hollow and slightly swollen, and if Peter didn’t know better, he could have sworn the ghost had been crying. A small nod is the only response he got, and Peter lost the circuit that connected his brain to mouth filter.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry. I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry. I know I probably freaked you out. I… I didn’t even realize. _I_ didn’t even know. I.. I wasn’t looking into it, and I’m sorry. I know you probably hate me and think I’m weird for… for falling for you because you know that was probably like illegal in your time, and you only ever talk about being with women, so I’m sure you don’t like guys, and I’m not even legal, and you’re a ghost. And I’m so sorry. You probably just wanted a friend or someone to at least talk to, and here I am fucking up the only real friendship I’ve ever had where I can be myself because I… I _fell_ for you. And I’ve never felt so stupid. I didn’t know, and then I just fucked it all up by saying your name, and I’m so so so sorry.” He took in a deep breath, scrubbing painfully at his eyes as he tried to get rid of his tears. “You probably just think I’m some fucked up kid who not only sees and talks to ghosts, but apparently he fucking falls in love with them, and you probably think I’m just so immature and… and… and-”

He stopped talking as a small sob left him, and he curled up into a ball on his bed. He’s never felt so… _pathetic_. He ruined everything by realizing his feelings at the worst possible time. Now he was going to be alone again, and it was that thought that left him feeling empty and cold.

Well, he thought it was.

“Please don’t cry,” a deep timber softly spoke to him. The voice scared the shit out of Peter, and when he looked up, he saw Tony standing next to him, his hands reaching out for the living boy. “Please don’t cry.”

Even as he stared at the ghost, he couldn’t believe that Tony was _talking_. He could hear his voice, and even though it was soft and barely audible, Peter’s heart instantly started to race. This was the voice that he heard in his dreams, and it was the voice that caused butterflies to erupt in his stomach.

“You’re talking…” he gaped at the ghost. Tony’s lips quirked into a hint of a smile, but he held out a page to the human boy.

“Please… read it, and… visit me,” he said softly before leaning down. Peter felt a faint cold touch on his forehead, and his eyes closed as he let the feeling surround him. When he finally opened his eyes, he was alone, but the page was still clutched tightly in his hand.

He let out a sharp exhale before turning the page around to hold it in a way that he could read, and he smiled sadly as he saw the familiar font of the typewriter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clutching the letter in now shaking hands, Peter fought the tears beginning to gather in his eyes. He hugged the paper tight to his chest, ignoring the few tears that slipped past his lids, as he let out a small, breathless laugh.

He stumbled out of bed, kicking his sheets off, before bolting down the hall. The floorboards screeched with his heavy footfalls, but he couldn’t care less as he fumbled with the key to unlock the door. Pushing the door open, Peter quickly ducked into the room, calling breathlessly, “Tony?”

Sitting on the windowseat, Tony turned his head towards the human boy. Peter could see the surprise on his face before the smile covered it, and the youth took hesitant steps towards the window. “Um… I read your letter…” His cheeks burned brightly, and he looked down shyly. Why was he suddenly so nervous again that he was practically just a schoolgirl with a crush? _Probably because you are one,_ his brain none too kindly decided to point out. “I, uh…”

Tony silently approached, standing in front of the living boy with a tender smile. Peter looked up at him, biting his lip shyly, but the ghost merely pointed towards the typewriter. _Please?_ He mouthed, and the boy nodded quickly before following him to the desk and settling in the worn leather chair.

The ghost was perched as usual on the edge of the desk, and he reached over with one hand to type a message that Peter eagerly waited to read. 

“Yes,” Peter breathed before looking at the letter in his lap. “I, uh-” He paused when he heard the keys clicking again, and he watched curiously as Tony typed, a furrow between his brows. 

Peter nodded; “Yes, but-” He was cut off by the sound of keys. 

“No, I didn’t come just because of that.” The keys again.

“Tony, I want to be here.” The keys began, and finally Peter felt his patience wither slightly. “Please, Tony, stop. Just listen to me, please?”

The ghost looked visibly nervous, but he at least pulled his hand away from the keys. His hands rested in his lap, and he stared at Peter, trying to focus his attention on the human. He received a small smile from the other before he spoke.

“Tony, I’m not here because you asked me to be here. I’m not for any reason except to talk to you,” Peter began. His own nerves were beginning to rise again, and he looked down at the letter in his lap, catching only the end: He swallowed the lump in his throat before looking up, holding Tony’s eyes. “I have no idea what I’m doing or anything. I’ve never had feelings… like this, I mean. I’ve never felt so happy or safe or secure with someone like I feel with you. I’ve never really been able to be myself… You know that kids use to tease me for seeing spirits, but May… She hated it. I use to see my parents, and she’d cry when I mentioned them…” He looked down, tears beginning to build behind his eyes as he recalled the memories. “I had friends when I was little, and my parents use to visit me, and I tried to tell her about them, but she didn’t understand. Told me that my parents were dead and that I was always playing alone. I knew I couldn’t keep hurting her, so I sent them away. My parents and my only friends.” A small sob left the teen as the tears began to fall.

“But I don’t have to hide with you,” he looked up, watery smile in place. Tony was watching him sadly, leaning towards him but not touching him. “I don’t have to be anything but myself with you. I told myself ghosts weren’t real, were a trick of the light, but I never forgot the love I could feel from my parents or how close I was to the little boys I played with. Being with you reminds me of the good times… The times when I was happy with ghosts and spirits, and I… I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose myself again.

I never thought that I’d end up… having feelings a lot deeper than just friends, but… I do. And I think, if I understood your letter correctly, that you might too…” He trailed off, suddenly growing nervous again. Peter looked away for a moment as he struggled to regain his courage before turning back to the spirit. “I don’t know how we’d do it or anything, but if you’ll have me… I’d love to be yours.”

Tony’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at the boy, reaching out and gently cupping his cheeks. Peter shivered at the cold touch, but he smiled back at the spirit before sucking in a small breath as Tony leant closer. A cold brush against his lips had Peter closing his eyes as a smile turned up the corners of his mouth, and he relaxed in the pleasantly odd sensation of what he could only describe as a kiss.

When he felt the cold shift to his forehead, his eyes reopened, and he stared into those warm amber orbs. Wait. Amber? He pulled back quickly in shock. Tony looked startled at his sudden reaction, and he started to pull away himself before Peter stopped him. “Wait, no! Don’t go! I… I just wasn’t… Your eyes… They’re brown.”

The furrow returned between Tony’s brows. “They've always been?” he said slowly, tentatively, almost as if he knew the fact to be true but was beginning to doubt it himself.

Peter shook his head quickly. “No, they were dark but only in shades of gray. You've always been in shades of gray…” he mumbled, looking down.

“I didn't realize you didn't see color…”

“Oh! I'm not colorblind. It's just you, just ghosts, that are gray,” Peter quickly clarified only to watch Tony's face fall a bit.

He made a small noise in the back of his throat, and it was that sound that caused Peter to realize that they were having an actual conversation. A _real verbal_ conversation. “Holy shit, you're talking…”

Tony chuckled softly at that. “I don't feel like I'm using as much energy as before, but it's easier than it was which truthfully does not seem plausible.”

Peter chewed his bottom lip nervously for a moment while his fingers absently pulled on his worn tee-shirt. “You know… My friends when I was little had some colors, mostly just their eyes and hair, but it was something. They use to always talk to me too…”

At the new information, Tony hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe your sight changes depending on your belief, and maybe when you open yourself up to it, it's easier for us to communicate with you.” It made sense theoretically, Peter had to admit. If he wasn't fighting it, he should be able to better interpret what his brain registered, right? And if he wasn't putting up a wall, he guessed it could be easier to communicate more openly.

“Maybe…” he agreed slowly after a few moments of pondering. When he looked up again, amber eyes locked with his own, and a true smile spread across his face and leaked up into his eyes. “Either way, I just want to spend time with you.”

 

And that's exactly what they did. For almost the entire month of August, Peter spent his time almost solely with Tony. They quickly became inseparable, often never leaving one another’s side for more than a few moments.

Tony would follow the youth around the house if Peter didn’t want to stay in the library, and now that they could openly communicate without the need of the typewriter, they didn’t _have_ to stay there. They had more freedom, and it helped everything to almost feel real. Tony only became invisible and silent when May was around, but his presence was never absent from Peter.  

They generally choose to split their time between the library and the forest. The forest, specifically the clearing, was great on days when the weather allowed them outside. Peter had dragged Tony out more than once during a storm however after explaining to the ghost that thunderstorms made him feel _alive_ in a way that nothing else did. Tony had only tsked and shook his head before following the human out, telling him that the second he got too cold or too wet, they had to go back.

In the library, Peter would still curl up in the window seat with a book in hand and Archie in his lap, but now Tony tended to lean more against his side, fondly reading over the human’s shoulder. He even had tried to teach Peter one of the old languages some of his literature was written in, but when Peter had failed at a simple word so terribly that he fell off the window seat while laughing, Tony had given up.

Peter would admit that night was his favorite time with Tony though.

It took about a week and a half before the ghost allowed himself to come into Peter’s room - his old bedroom. One night, the human had was startled awake by a horrific nightmare that involved the car crash that killed his uncle, and he had curled up in a small ball sobbing into his pillow until a cold touch to his hair caused him to look up.

“Amore mio, what’s wrong?” Tony had whispered, looking sadly down at the sobbing teenager.

Peter shook his head, curling up tighter while also leaning into the cold touch. His skin felt like it was on fire, and the ghost’s naturally cold aura settled some of the burn. “Just a nightmare. ‘M okay.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t cried in a long time, amore mio.”

“Just… Thinking about Uncle Ben,” he admitted softly, sniffling quietly. “The accident and all.”

Tony nodded slightly, unsure of what to do now that Peter had stopped crying. “Anything I can do?” he asked gently.

Peter was silent for a moment before looking sadly up at the ghost. “Will you stay? For the night? Please?”

The timid look and voice brought a small smile to the ghost’s lips, and he nodded before lying down behind the human. One of his arms draped over the other’s small waist, and he watched as the tension in Peter’s shoulders seemed to slowly ebb away.

They spent a small amount of time talking until Tony began telling Peter a story about his life prior to being a ghost - the misery he use to subject his best friend to tended to create quite humorous stories - and only stopped once the human was lulled back to sleep.

After that night, Tony became a constant bed companion. They’d continue to talk about whatever they’d been discussing all day or Tony would tell stories; sometimes even Peter would have a tale of his own to spill. Sometimes they didn’t talk much at all, just stayed as close as they were able given the differences between their physical forms.

Sometimes when it’s really late at night and Peter doesn’t feel like pretending anymore, he’ll ask Tony to leave for a bit, give him some _alone_ time, because he is a sixteen year old boy after all, and he does have needs. He always tried to be quick and quiet because he was beginning to realize that he only slept well when Tony was next to him, but after the one time Tony accidentally walked in on him, that opened a whole new side of their relationship.

For the most part, as well as Peter could tell, they were doing really well given their circumstances. They were pretty open with each other and didn’t seem to have many problems talking about the odd aspects of their relationship. They fooled around in a way (usually leaving Peter giggly, content, and sleepy, and Tony smirking and maybe a little bit too proud of himself). Everything seemed perfect.

But all good things have to come to an end… right?

One day, Tony had told Peter that he was going to be gone for most of the day. Peter was confused at the time, but the ghost had told him that a few of his old friends (who apparently were also ghosts) and him were going to spend a bit of time together. He promised to be back that night before Peter went to sleep because he knew the boy had trouble sleeping alone.

Peter spent the day entertaining himself with various books and television shows. It was oddly difficult to focus on anything without Tony around even though the ghost tended to distract him from whatever he was doing. Archie at least stayed behind to spend time with Peter, and the human was greatly thankful for that. They went outside and snuggled on the couch, and when May got home before Tony, he spent the rest of his night with her.

They hadn’t been spending as much time together what with May always working and Peter often hiding away with his ghost boyfriend that she didn’t know about, but they enjoyed their time together. They played a few card games before watching a movie while eating popcorn that was not nearly buttery enough for either of their tastes. At almost eleven, they said their goodnights. He kissed her cheek, and she caught him before he could pull too far away.

“I love you, Peter. I’m so happy to see you adjusting so well,” she whispered, her eyes shining in a way he knew threatened tears. He smiled back at her, returning the declaration of love before letting her practically squeeze the life out of him in a hug.

After that he got ready for bed as normal, but he was surprised to see that Tony still hadn’t returned. Pouting, the human crawled under his sheets, smiling as Archie managed to jump up using the chest at the foot of his bed and came rushing over for snuggles with his own bottom wiggling happily.

They spent a while just the two of them, but soon the pup got too tired and fell asleep. It was nearing one am, and Peter was beginning to worry, but just as he began to push himself up into a sitting position, Tony appeared at the foot of his bed.

“Tony,” Peter whispered with a small pout.

The ghost merely smiled faintly at him before claiming his spot on the bed, curling himself around the human boy. “They have no sense of time, those two. I apologize for being so late, il mio amore.” A cold brush against his cheek had Peter closing his eyes for a few seconds to enjoy the simple touch.

When he opened them, a playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Make it up to me?”

Tony chuckled before leaning in, resting his forehead against the youth’s. “Sarai la morte di me,” he whispered, and Peter giggled softly before moving closer with a playful glint in his eyes. Maybe some good things didn’t have to end.

 

Peter stared at his sock-clad feet as he climbed the old wooden rods of the attic ladder. Once he was upstairs, he reached down to pull the ladder back up, folding it and hiding it as if he had never entered the room.

Truth be told, Peter had only ever gone into the attic two times. When they had first gotten the house, he had seen the small door in the ceiling of the hallway and had curiously pulled the latch to look in the space. It was a large room, and it was disgustingly covered in a thick layer of dust, so he was quick to get out of there. The second time was when he heard some extremely strange noises in the space and decided to check if it was a wild animal that had somehow gotten in or if Tony had failed to mention another ghost that lived in the house (turned out a squirrel had taken refuge in the dusty space).

Otherwise, he had never had a reason to go into the attic. Well, until now that is.

Taking oddly steady steps, Peter walked to the end of the room where a large circular window sat. Tony had told him once that he use to study the stars through this window, and he could see the telescope still set up in front. His heart ached.

Tony… The ghost had suddenly disappeared about a week ago. He had spent a day away with his “friends” and had returned to Peter’s side for the night, but by morning, he was gone. Peter had desperately tried to get in contact with the ghost, writing on the typewriter they hadn’t used in almost a month, visiting their spot in the meadow, wandering the forest as a whole. Nothing ever worked.

The house was silent and still, and it made Peter’s skin crawl with discomfort. He spent the past two days in bed, refusing to get out from under his covers even when May would visit. His excuse was always either a stomach ache or catching up on sleep before school started. He could see the worry in her eyes and hear it in her voice, but she never fought him on the matter.

The thought of May made him stop, his hand pressed against the cold glass of the window. What would happen to her?

He shook his head before pushing the center circle of the glass window until it opened. He stuck his head through, seeing the small lip that the roof provided at the sill. Peter took a deep breath before beginning to pull himself through, resting his toes on the sill.

He hadn’t realized there was a thunderstorm happening until the wind and the rain whipped his hair back out of his face. His hands clutched the glass pane as he looked down, seeing the ground at least three stories below and covered in both rocks and tree limbs.

Just as he changed his grip on the pane, a voice spoke to him. “Peter.”

Whipping his head around, Peter stared wide-eyed at the ghost sitting on the top of the window. Tony was staring at him, panic clearly written across his features, and as much as Peter felt relief to see his face, anger began to bubble up as well. “Oh, so you care again?”

“Of course I care!” Tony snapped, face growing hard and indigent while his eyes stayed full with panic.

“Then why did you leave?” Peter snapped, clutching tightly to the wet sill. “You didn’t say anything, just up and left one night!”

“I…” Tony started, looking away for a moment.

“You what?” Peter cried loudly. “You told me you loved me! You told me I was special and that you loved me, that you’d never leave me! You made me feel like myself. You made me think that you actually cared!”

“I do care!” Tony shouted. “I’ve always cared, dammit! I wouldn’t have left if I didn’t care!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense, Tony!”

“Yes, it does! You’re too young to understand!”

“Oh, we’re going to bring up age again? I thought you were over th-ah!” A flash of lightning illuminated the sky, and a flicker of dirty blonde had caught Peter’s attention for a split second mid-shout, and that was all it took. His foot slipped on the wet sill, and his ice cold fingers didn’t have the strength to save him.

He saw the panic and absolute horror on Tony’s face, saw his lips moving but was unable to hear anything over the rush of air against his ears. He didn’t even scream as he fell. Peter had wanted this. His intentions on going to the attic were clear. He had gone up the stairs and would only be coming down one way, so he found no reason to be afraid as everything moved in slow motion.

All good things had to come to an end, right?

Wrong.

Blinking his eyes open, he stared up at the sky in confusion before a head was leaning over his. “Peter,” Tony cried, his eyes filling with both pain and tears. “Peter, you stupid boy, do you even know what you did?”

Peter stared up at Tony, seeing the tan skin and how it was turning pink at his cheeks. He watched the tears slide down, catching in the dark stubble flecked with gray and a tiny bit of white. Tony’s amber eyes were closed, but they had seemed even brighter when Peter had caught sight of them only a moment ago.

Reaching out, Peter gently brushed his fingers under Tony’s eyes in a way that was meant to show that he wanted to wipe the tears away, but surprisingly enough, he felt the warm skin and wetness instead of the odd cold sensation. “You’re warm…” he mumbled softly.

Tony’s eyes open at the sound of his voice, and he frowned down at the boy before cupping his cheeks. His hands were warm, and the calloused skin tickled his own, but the touch felt real. Realer than any other they had shared. “You’re an idiot, you do realize that, don’t you?” Tony hissed softly, but Peter merely smiled up at the man before slowly sitting up.

“You’re so colorful and warm. You feel so real,” Peter whispered, taking Tony’s hands and nuzzling them happily.

Tony watched him, a tenderness beginning to come to his eyes even as anger kept his body tense. “I never wanted this for you…”

Peter frowned, pulling away slightly. His own eyes were beginning to fill with tears, and he felt a sudden coldness filling him. “You don’t love me?”

“I didn’t say that-”

“But you said that you didn’t want me.”

“No, Peter, I said I didn’t want _this_ for you. I didn’t want you to be like me.” Tony tried to explain, but the confused look he got only caused him to sigh. He gestured to the ground, and Peter turned to look down only to suck in a breath.

Lying on the ground was another version of himself, but this version is paler than his usual color. His eyes are open and glazed over, and there’s a dark puddle quickly forming under his head. His neck seems like it’s on a slightly odd angle, but it still doesn’t make sense to Peter. He looked up at Tony with confused eyes, and the look he gets held nothing but sad sincerity.

“Peter, amore mio, you’re dead…”

Peter blinked owlishly up at the other before looking back down at the other version of himself. “Wait, if I’m dead, then…”

“Yes, Peter, you’re a ghost. Well, specifically a spirit, but most people don’t truly understand the difference.” Tony sighed softly, shaking his head before looking down at the quickly colding body. “No matter, you’re still gone from the living world.”

“But I’m the same as you,” Peter quickly spoke.

Tony nodded his head slightly; “Well, yes, but-” He was cut off by a clumsy pair of lips pressing against his own. It only took a few seconds for him to respond, but he eagerly kissed the new ghost back, cupping Peter’s soft cheeks and pulling him closer.

Peter was easily the happiest he can ever remember being as he wrapped his arms around the man’s neck and pressed all of his emotions into their kiss. It’s nothing like he’s experienced before because this felt real. This _was_ real. Tony was no longer just a cold aura brushing against his skin or an odd weight with no physical force leaning against him. Tony was warm and soft and muscular and _real_. The roughness of his goatee and mustache tickled Peter’s skin when before he could never feel anything.

They only pulled away when suddenly a pup was squirming itself between their bodies, barking and growling playfully while trying to gain the ghosts’ attention. They pulled away with a small laugh, and Peter quickly scooped up the pup and hugged him against his chest. “Oh, my god, you’re so soft and warm!” Peter gushed, nuzzling the fur and giggling loudly at the excited licks he was getting from the pup.

Tony chuckled and leaned down, kissing Peter’s forehead gently while pulling both the human and pup into his lap. The happiness filling Peter was unlike anything he has ever experienced before, and he can’t help the tears that fall from his eyes. Tony and Archie were real. They were real and alive (not in the legitimate sense obviously) and warm.

The older ghost gently kept wiping his tears away, whispering soft words in Italian to the smaller boy. The trio remained in their own bubble, completely absorbed in just being with each other, that they hadn’t even noticed the two men approaching.

“I thought you weren’t going to pursue him?” A very disapproving voice suddenly spoke. The human pair quickly looked to the side to see two men standing mere feet away.

One of them had short dirty blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. His frame was wide at the shoulder and narrow at the waist which was accentuated by his outfit - a plaid button-up that was tucked into his pants and brown suspenders keeping his khakis up. The other had shoulder-length brown hair and stormy blue eyes, but what really stood out was the fact that he was missing his left arm.

Peter stared wide-eyed at the two men, but Tony frowned at the pair. “I left after we met and you explained things, but Peter, here, decided to climb out of a window and slipped and fell.”

The blonde scoffed while the brunette scowled. “Oh? Is that how things were? Tony, you said this time would be different!” the blonde shouted.

“I tried to make it different, Steve! I tried! I was going to explain what was going on, and I was never planning on going back, but he slipped!”

“You should have stopped him before he even got out the window!”

“Oh, so I’m suppose to make things different and leave but I’m suppose to intervene?”

“You were suppose to keep him from dying!” the brunette exclaimed.

“I tried, James! I tried!”

“You didn’t try hard enough!” the blonde shouted.

Peter stared for a moment at the three men before suddenly cutting the fight off. “Wait… Steve? James? Like… Like the boys I use to play with?” he asked softly, looking wide-eyed up at the pair.

The blonde huffed softly, but the brunette gave him a slightly crooked smile, and Peter instantly knew. He untangled himself from Tony before standing and approaching the others. “Oh, my god… Steven! James!” he cried before launching himself into their arms and hugging both men tightly.

Both men tensed at first, but within a few seconds, they both had wrapped themselves around Peter. The blonde - Steven - was hugging Peter almost painfully tight while the brunette - James - kept them both close to his chest.

Peter laughed as more tears fell from his eyes. He never thought he would see his old childhood friends again after he had pushed them away all those years ago, and even though they seemed a lot older than him now, they were here.

“Oh, I missed you,” Steven sighed, resting his forehead on Peter’s curls.

“I missed you too,” Peter whispered as he tried to swallow his tears back. “I never thought I’d see you again…”

“Oh, sweetheart, we’ve never left your side,” James said gently, stroking through those tender curls on the back of Peter's head. The ease that suddenly flooded Peter left him both confused and oddly content, but he ignored it in favor of hiding himself more against Steven. He had never understood why his old childhood friends had always made him feel so happy, and why he almost was more upset to watch them go over his own parents.

“That’s because we are your parents,” Steven said gently. Has Peter been speaking out loud this whole time? Apparently so.

“What do you mean you’re my parents?” Peter asked, pulling away to look between the men before looking back at Tony who had moved to stand only a foot away with Archie in his arms.

Steven and James chanced a glance between themselves before Steven started to talk. “Well, I don’t think anyone has told you, which makes sense given that you don’t really learn this until you come to the other side, but-”

“Do you remember when Steve told you we were soulmates when you were little?” James quickly interrupted the rambling blonde. Peter nodded slightly, faintly remembering the situation but more remembering the feelings. “Well, soulmates are just a really strong bond between two souls. They almost always are romantic love in root, but there are other types of soul bonds. One type of bond is a familial bond which can happen between parents, siblings, or any combination of family members. Stevie and I have a bond with your soul as your parents. It’s almost like your our kid no matter the situation even if you’re not born to us by blood.”

Peter nodded slowly, trying to process the information before looking over at Tony. The man shrugged slightly before gesturing with his head for the younger to come over. Peter happily untangled himself from the pair and snuggled into Tony’s side, tucking himself under his arm.

Steven frowned at the movement, but James lightly smacked his chest before linking their arms together. “You can’t do anything about it now, Stevie. Just let them be together, moya lyubov',” James said with a smile, kissing the blonde man’s cheek.

There was a grumble of protest from the blonde man, but he leant into his soulmate. “I still can’t get over the fact my best friend is my son’s soulmate,” he grumbled.

Peter paused at Steven’s words, looking between the pair and the man he was pressed up against. “Wh-What? We… Soulmates?”

The faintest shade of pink covered Tony's cheeks above his stubble covered skin. “Do you remember when I told you I had only ever loved one person before you? Well, it turned out that Steve and James here have been following you around since they died after me, and it turned out that… you are her. The connection that I always felt with you stemmed from the bond we apparently made in either that life or one prior. That’s why I always thought you were familiar…”

Peter stared wide-eyed up at the other man, taking a few moments to process the information before reaching out and hitting the man’s arm. “If you’re my soulmate, why did you leave me?” he asked with a scowl as Tony rubbed the spot he had gotten hit.

“That was our fault,” James said, and now he had Peter’s attention. “We went away because you asked us to, but we never went far. We were always watching you from afar. Unfortunately… In the last life we had with you, after Tony died, you got sick and left us suddenly. You were only a teenager, and you never got a chance to live… We had left for a small portion of time after your uncle passed away, and when we returned, you had already met Tony. We… didn’t want you two to be together. We wanted you to have a chance to live, Peter. You died so young before, and we wanted you to actually have a chance at a real life with maybe kids of your own.”

Peter frowned at the information, looking between the people around him again before locking eyes with James. “You asked Tony to leave me…?”

Both Steven and James looked down at the clearly heartbroken tone that Peter took on with that question. “We realize now that it was stupid to ask such a thing, but we had your best intentions in mind…” Steven said gently.

Before Peter even had a chance to get mad, Tony was hugging him tighter and kissing the spot behind his ear that made his knees a little weak. “Don’t be mad at them now. What’s done is done. You’re with me now. We’re all together now.” He said, locking eyes with Peter before looking towards the other two. Peter frowned, taking a small breath in, before nodding slightly.

Both Steven and James breathed small sighs of relief before everyone was distracted by a sudden warm light washing over them. “What’s that?” Peter asked in confusion as he stared at the annoying bright light.

“It’s home…” Steven said with a smile, looking from James to Peter and Tony.

Tony was grinning widely. “It looks like I found what I was waiting for,” he said before looking down at Peter with unmistakable fondness in his eyes.

Peter blinked up at Tony in confusion before he pointed to himself. “Me?”

The other three men around him all laughed gently, and Tony nodded before kissing his cheek. “Looks like I just needed to get my soulmate back by my side to crossover.” The youth blushed darkly and hid himself against Tony’s shoulder, only peaking out when some of the blood left his cheeks.

“Sh… Should we go then?” he asked softly.

A smile from each of the other men and a small yip from Archie told him his answer, and Peter smiled as he walked with the people that have always made him feel like himself, always made him feel at home, made him feel _special_ into the light.

 

**Alternate Ending:**

For the past week, Peter has been struggling to do much of anything. After Tony had spent the day with his “friends” and the night with Peter, he had suddenly disappeared. When the morning had risen, there was no sign of the ghost or his pup except for the letters left over from their conversations on the typewriter.

He had searched the house and even the forest for the ghost for the first two days, and there was nothing. Absolutely no sign. It was almost as if Peter had completely imagined everything.

Sitting in the plush leather chair, Peter reread through the pages upon pages of his conversations with Tony, and when he found the confession letter, his heart seized up again. Suppressing a small sob, he clutched the letter tight to his chest as he remembered that night and how everything had changed.

“Why did you leave?” he sniffled. “Was I not good enough? Did I do something wrong?”

He curled up closer to himself, practically in the fetal position in the seat of the chair. He's never felt as alone as he does now. These past few months with Tony had shown him what it was like to be close to someone, to be loved and cherished. He had gotten to be himself for the first time in a long time, and he had opened himself up entirely, but apparently that hadn't been enough.

In a sudden burst of anger, Peter threw the letters on the table and got up, stalking out of the room and slamming the door behind him. He didn't even bother to lock the door as he stalked down the hall to his own bedroom.

With another loud slam, Peter was alone in his room, face buried in his pillow. He was stronger than this. He was strong. He was…

Broken. He was _alone_.

Tony wasn't coming back. It had been a week since he left, and he hasn't shown even a hint of himself. It was that thought that finally broke him.

He sobbed loudly into his pillow for what seemed like hours. His heart ached and shattered. His head pounded from the increased pressure caused by his crying.

He had cried until he ran out of tears. Had sobbed and screamed until his voice was hoarse and his throat was raw. And now? Now he felt a cold hollow numbness settling into his bones.

Maybe it'd be better if he just disappeared himself. Maybe it'd be better if he ended his pain. Ended everything.

His brain suddenly stopped at the idea of making it stop. What would he do? Could he really do it? Could he really end his life?

No. He knew the answer was no. He couldn't leave May alone after everything. He couldn't give up just because his heart was broken. He was stronger than that.

But was he _really_?

Peter shook his head violently, and even though his world was spinning now, he knew he had to keep going. If for nothing else, he had to keep going for May.

He knew then that he was going to have to try harder. He was going to have to not make her worried about him. And he knew that he was going to have to get over Tony.

The pain that swelled afterwards he tried to push away. He knew it wasn't about to suddenly get easier now. He knew he had to work for it, and maybe if as long as in her presence he seemed okay, maybe he could wait to start tackling his heartbreak.

 

Another week past without any sign of Tony. Peter had tried to not count the days, but it was hard since May was still working her usual busy schedule, and school was right around the corner.

He was finally beginning to feel a little more whole in her presence though. He could actually smile a little without the entire thing being forced, and he could do the little things around the house she asked without losing all his energy.

“Peter, we're out of coffee, do you think you could go to the store and get some today?” she asked on her way out the door.

Peter shuffled after her, nodding a little bit. “Yeah, I can do that.” He tried to sound like he use to when she asked him for such things, but today was a little harder than it had been, and she must have noticed.

May reached out, lightly cupping Peter's cheek. “You don't have to if you don't feel up to it. I would never make you leave the house if you didn't feel good.”

He nodded before looking up at her, giving her a small sad smile. “Thanks… But I want to. Maybe it would be good to go out and see the town a bit more.” Truth be told, Peter really didn't go out much or interact with people outside of those within his own home, so he still had yet to see most of their new little town.

May watched him closely for a moment before nodding. “I left some money on the table. If you see anything you want, go ahead and get it, okay?”

He agreed softly and smiled a little when she kissed his cheek before giving him a tight hug. “I love you so much, Peter.”

“I love you too, Aunt May. I'll see you later today.” With that they pulled away, May went to work while Peter shuffled into the kitchen. He did the dishes before looking at the money on the table and taking a deep breath, trying to not lose his nerve.

“Come on, Pete, you can do this,” he told himself. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he quickly grabbed the cash and shoved it into his pocket before getting his phone and pulling his sneakers on. Better if he just went now instead of continuing to push it off and risk losing his nerve.

He kept his hands in his pockets as he walked, and he stared at his shoes for awhile to swallow down the nerves that kept plaguing him. Maybe that was why people called him unobservant?

It was with that exact thought that he found himself being jumped on by the biggest blackest dog he's ever seen. He blinked as he was suddenly sat on his ass with the gentle giant licking all over his face. The abrupt change seemed ridiculous, and he couldn't help but laugh. He laughed until tears began to leak from his eyes as he petted over the extremely soft fur of the pup, who was wagging his tail so vigorously his entire butt went with it.

“What a lovebug,” he cooed. For the first time in two weeks, Peter was laughing and smiling and _happy_. The world wasn't nearly so bad now.

“Oh, my god, I'm so sorry!! Archie, get off of him!” A voice suddenly shouted, and with it the pup was pulling away and moving towards another young man. The dog happily jumped onto the man who snatched his leash up before walking over.

“I'm sorry. Are you okay? Did he hurt you? He thinks everyone will pet him just because he's cute.” He scoffed softly before offering his hand to Peter, who accepted the help to stand.

“Oh, he didn't hurt me. Actually made me laugh which I really needed. He really is a sweetheart.” Peter said while looking down at the dog and happily petting him when he bumped his head into Peter's awaiting hand.

“Well I guess he's good for that at least. I swear people only hang out with me to hang out with Archie,” the young man said, and Peter ignored how his heart seemed to miss a beat at the words.

Something about this interaction with this young man was beginning to painfully remind him of Tony, and he really didn't need to have a breakdown in front of a perfect stranger. He looked up, going to tell the man that he was fine but he had to run and wish him a good day, but his voice caught when his eyes locked on a youthful and achingly familiar pair of amber eyes.

Peter's voice caught in his throat, and his heart started beating quickly. Hell, even his ears were ringing. He just stared at the stranger for a moment.

“Are you sure you're okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost.” Maybe the man was trying to tease him, make light of the situation, but Peter swore he _was_ seeing a ghost. Not just any ghost at that.

“U-Uh, I'm sorry!!” Peter's voice finally seemed to be working again, but apparently his blush was too. He could feel his cheeks practically glowing now in embarrassment. “Sorry, just been kind of off in my own head recently. I'm so sorry.”

The man only shrugged and gave him a half-smile half-smirk. “Happens to us all. At least it happens to me too sometimes. Don't worry about it, kid.”

Peter frowned at that. “Don’t call me kid. I bet I'm not that much younger than you.”

“Oh? How old are you then?”

“Sixteen.” Peter replied, pouting a little bit before getting distracted by a warm lick to his palm. He cooed and gave his attention to the pup again before realizing that he probably looked a lot younger doing that.

He was quickly standing again, and he was back to blushing bright red as he tried not to meet the man's eyes because he could practically _feel_ him smirking.

“Twenty-two. So you're not too much younger than me I guess, but we're in different age groups, so while _I'm_ an adult, _you're_ a kid.”

Peter was sure the man was teasing him now, and his cheeks just couldn't stop burning. He could even feel it going up into his ears and down his neck.

“I'm in high school. I don't think you can call me a kid.”

“Kid, I graduated high school at fourteen. I'm more than halfway to a second PhD,” the young man responded quickly before winking at Peter.

Peter flushed again, but before he could say anything, a loud bark and a small shout rang through his ears. “Archie!” the young man called, and he turned to look where the massive dog had run off to.

Peter couldn't help but look as well, and he was surprised to see that the pup was happily bothering two other young men.

The two men looked like they knew the pup based on how they were interacting with him. One man had short dirty blonde hair that was cut almost military style and was straddling the seat of a motorcycle. The other man had slightly longer dark brown hair and was straddling the blonde’s lap. He was also currently petting the pup with a metal hand.

Peter stared at the people before looking back at the dog's owner to see him chuckling and shaking his head.

“Rogers! Barnes! You good?” the man hollered.

The blonde and brunette turned their heads towards the man and each waved before the blonde shouted back some form of confirmation. When the young man returned his attention to Peter, he was receiving quite an odd and funny look.

“They're my friends. Archie doesn't pull his leash from my hand unless he's going to see someone he knows and likes. Well, he doesn't _normally_ , but he certainly went after you,” the man teased.

Peter flushed and looked away, accidentally catching the eyes of the men on the motorcycle. Blondie had bright blue eyes that were curiously watching him, and the brunette had a pair of stormy blues that were under a pair of dark arched brows. He quickly looked away and back at the other man. Those eyes seemed oddly familiar too...

“Uh… I should probably go… I don't want to keep you busy,” Peter quickly said, tucking a stray lock behind his ear while biting his bottom lip.

He slipped past the man and waved to the two on the motorcycle before lowering his head again. Within less than a minute, a hand was gently wrapping around his shoulder and stopping him. “Wait, kid.”

Peter turned to look back at the young man, swallowing the lump in his throat when he caught those eyes again. “Have we met before?” the man asked softly. “It's just you seem so familiar, and I've been trying to figure out if we've met before, but I can't remember. Also Archie really doesn't leave me unless he knows the person he's going to, so that's not normal for him.”

A shy, almost bittersweet smile crossed Peter's lips, but before he could respond, something behind the man caught his eye. Standing there in all his glory was Tony, Peter's beloved Tony. He was next to two men - a blonde and a brunette - and Archie was in his arms, but Tony was only looking at Peter.

Tony gave a little wave with a small smile before he and the other two men separated ways, and Peter was confused to see the pup now in the unnamed brunette’s arms. The other two walked towards the men on the motorcycle who still had Archie's full attention, and Peter's confused brain was trying to keep up with all of the information.

The blonde man walked straight into the blonde on the motorcycle, and the brunette went to the partner. Archie jumped from the brunette's arms at the last second and into the large black dog with the matching name.

Panic was beginning to take over Peter again, and when his attention returned to the man in front of him, Tony was directly behind him. Tony glanced at the man in front of him, smirking at Peter and raising his brow before mouthing a few words.

“Hey, are you okay?” the man asked softly, regaining Peter's attention.

Peter blinked up at the man, and he couldn't deny what his brain had tried to tell him before. The young man in front of him looked identical to Tony just younger, a little less worn. He even had the same personality: flirty, boisterous, friendly. Peter's heart started pounding in his chest, and when he watched Tony slip into the man in front of him, he broke into a sweet smile. “Yeah, just… in my head you know.”

The man smiled back, and there was even a hint of a blush on his lightly stubbled cheeks. Peter giggled softly, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt before speaking quickly. “You know, I don't know if we've met before, but… I'd, uh, I'd love to get to know you.”

Dark brows seemed to raise slightly before a little chuckle reached his ears. “Here I thought you were thinking I was crazy, and then you're flirting with me, huh? You're cute, kid. Pretty when you blush too,” he winked. Peter of course blushed at that comment, giggling softly. “Can I get your number then? Maybe if you're free, wanna go to dinner?”

They traded numbers and talked for a moment more before Peter began to walk away again, suddenly a bit more pep in his step. Maybe all good things _didn't_ have to end.

“Oh, wait!”

This time Peter laughed loudly and turned to look back at the man, tilting his head and waiting for the remark. “I never got your name…” the man admitted with both a grin and a pink blush.

“Peter,” he responded with a sweet smile, holding his hand out to the other boy.

His hand was taken and shook before being let go, and Peter could only feel his smile grow as the boy responded. “Nice to meet you, Peter. I'm Tony.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked it! I know not everyone would be happy with the first ending, so I do hope that the second ending allowed everyone to be happy! I'm sorry for any mistakes. This is unbeta'ed, and it's been awhile since I've written and posted anything. Much love, everyone!


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